


See What I See?

by penumbria



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dark Stiles Stilinski, Dead Sheriff Stilinski, Gen, Orphan Stiles Stilinski, Seer Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski uses the name Mitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29622597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbria/pseuds/penumbria
Summary: What if Stiles was a seer?
Relationships: Peter Parker & Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 6
Kudos: 152
Collections: Teen Wolf Bingo





	See What I See?

**Author's Note:**

> This fills a square for my Teen Wolf Bingo: Hallucinations/Visions.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf and I make no money from this.

**Title** : See What I See?

**Fandom** : Teen Wolf

**Relationships** : Gen, Stiles Stilinksi (Mitch) & Peter Hale

**Word Count** : 2,591

**Bingo Square** : Hallucinations/Visions

**Summary** : What if Stiles was a seer?

* * *

As he drove down the highway towards Beacon Hills, Mitch Stilinski mused on the concepts of identity and name. When he had been young, he couldn’t pronounce his own first name, like most non-Polish speakers couldn’t, and the closest he came was Mischief. After his mother’s illness and death, he hadn’t been able to bear hearing it and changed his name to Stiles, a play on his last name. 

He hadn’t known it but it had been a bit of an unfortunate choice as his paternal grandfather had used it as  _ his  _ nickname and he wasn’t the best person to emulate. After Mitch’s father had been murdered, his grandfather had taken custody and made it clear that two Stiles’ were unacceptable and the young boy would have to pick something else. Seeing as his grandfather had been using the name for decades and the young boy he had been had only been using it for under a year, he found that fair reasoning. Even in families where there were Seniors and Juniors or Thirds, they each used different variations of the names.

Stiles-who-had-been-Mischief didn’t want to try to constantly have people mangle his full name of Mieczyslaw, so he had decided to Anglicize his given name and he became Mitch. 

That had been 6 years ago when he was 12. Now, he was 18, he had graduated high school several months early, and he was ready to live on his own and return to Beacon Hills. He had no desire to live any longer with his grandfather, the abusive drunk that he was. 

And besides, things were going to be happening in Beacon Hills this year. He’d seen many variations to the possible futures and was looking forward to the outcome. 

But, his mind shifted away from his visions and back to the idea of identity. He was returning to a place where people had known him as Mischief, and briefly, as Stiles. He didn’t think of himself as either of those names, not anymore, nor did he think of himself as Mieczyslaw. He could pronounce it properly now, but he rarely had to bother. He thought of himself as Mitch. Everyone he knew at his former high school knew him as Mitch or Stilinski. 

But he wasn’t sure that the residents of Beacon Hills would agree. Some of them, those who didn’t previously know him, or only tangentially so, would surely go with how he introduced himself - Mitch. But others, childhood friends - and enemies - that he had lost touch with, old babysitters from his neighborhood and the Sheriff’s station, former teachers, Mitch wasn’t as sure they would be amenable to changing how they referred to him.

People were hidebound, but on the other hand, most people were not  _ deliberately  _ rude. Some might stumble over his preferred name before correcting but he didn’t think they would deliberately ignore his preference for long. Especially if he refused to answer to his childhood nicknames.

Of course, he could always run into assholes like his grandfather, the man who had refused to use his son’s preferred name - ever. The man who was the reason Mitch’s dad had only called himself John after he left home - an Anglicized version of his middle name Johannes. The abusive relationship John had with his father Stiles Stilinski was too connected to the name Noah. 

Mitch blinked and shook his head as he changed lanes as he neared his exit. He needed to stop obsessing over such a minor matter. Unfortunately, hyper fixation was a curse of his ADHD. But he needed to focus on the current circumstances or he could throw things off course. 

The smallest divergence over the next few days would wildly change the future. And depending on how it diverged, it could lead to dozens or even hundreds of people dying. Potentially including Mitch.

Mitch already had too much personal experience of fucking up what his visions showed him and the horrific consequences of it. Mitch had visions as far back as he could recall but they were always more like gut feelings and nudges and instances of deja vu when he was little - with the occasional dream slash nightmare. 

But after Claudia Stilinski died, the visions intensified tenfold and then a hundredfold within two months’ time. He had begun to see horrific scenes he couldn’t quite interpret of horrible tragedies and crimes. 

And his little 12-year-old self had wanted to protect and serve like his dad. He had told his father about the older woman who was doing something bad to the teenage Derek Hale. 

Believing his son had  _ literally  _ seen something - not  _ supernaturally  _ seen something - Deputy Stilinski had caught Kate Argent in the act of statutory rape of a minor and falsification of records and using a fake name to get a teacher’s job. 

She had been arrested and when the camera footage from the cruiser had been too much for her lawyer to overcome during the trial, she had been convicted. Before she could go to prison though, several armed men - led by Kate’s father, Gerard - had stormed the local jail, killed several guards, and broken her out. 

Two days later, Deputy Stilinski had pulled over a speeder and been shot in the head. Footage from his dash camera showed Kate Argent pulling the trigger from the backseat of the pulled-over car. The driver was never identified and Kate Argent had yet to be caught again.

Three weeks after the funeral, Mitch read online that Derek Hale’s house had burned down and most of his family had died inside. Even though he was a few hours drive away, Mitch still made sure to read the online version of the Beacon Hills Gazette every day. The fire and the deaths of the Hale family was something Mitch had been having visions of for years, he had realized after seeing newspaper photos of the gutted house. 

Derek Hale had survived, he hadn’t been home that night, there had been a basketball game, the paper had reported. His older sister, Laura, had been there with him. Derek’s uncle, Peter Hale, had arrived home and tried to stop the fire and save people but had been trapped under burning debris and left with horrific burns over half of his body and had fallen into a coma within 48 hours. 

Derek and Laura had left town, leaving the comatose Peter behind. Mitch had seen that he had woken up to a catatonic state after a year. He could respond minimally to his carers but his mind wasn’t there in the body, not really.

But over the last year, Mitch had begun having visions of Beacon Hills and the surviving Hales. He was thankful that his grandfather had a very much hands-off type of parental style - except when he was literally hands-on when drunk. 

Thanks to his freedom, even as a preteen, Mitch had learned a lot about the supernatural world, both online and with a few local contacts over the last six years. He had learned how to better control his visions and harness them to his desires. 

Mitch couldn’t force a vision of something - like lottery numbers or the winner of the World Series - unless he had been granted an opening first. If he was granted a vision of something happening to someone at the final game in the World Series, he could take his visions down the path to the most likely outcome and see the results that way. But he couldn’t just walk up to a baseball and touch it and see the final score or the final play or anything.

But when it was something that he was gifted visions of,  _ and  _ he could personally play a part in changing the outcome, there he had learned to shine. And Mitch had been gifted with visions concerning the Hales since before he could even talk.

Mitch pulled off the highway and as he reached the turn to the surface street, he grinned in relief. Just crossing the intersection was a black Camaro with a woman in the driver’s seat and an empty passenger seat. Laura Hale - right on time. And so was Mitch, to follow her without it being suspicious. He had planned his route and timing with care, as it would have been highly suspicious to a werewolf in unsafe territory, if someone had begun following her miles out, at any of the last few places they could have intersected in their vehicles. 

But this, this was the last exit from the highway before Beacon Hills and so a car turning from that exit ramp and proceeding into the center of town was a normal thing, totally unsuspicious. Even that vehicle pulling into the same motel parking lot wasn’t something to get worked up about. It was the best middle-range motel within Beacon County  _ and  _ the closest to the highway. A car getting off of the highway and pulling in there was normal and happened all the time.

Mitch was able to regulate his heartbeat and scent and keep himself calm thanks to a medallion a hedge witch friend had provided for him. There was nothing for Laura Hale to pick up on.

==

Over the next day, after checking into the motel, Mitch spent time casually stalking Laura Hale. She didn’t do too much. Prominently, she visited the local vet’s office, spent a while at the graveyard, and spent an hour at the hospital’s long-term care wing.

Mitch made sure to stay out of range of her werewolf senses during those errands and only went close when they were both in full public view and it was a normal type of passing or being close to another, like at the motel’s breakfast buffet or the cafe for lunch.

He did his best to ignore the feelings of nostalgia he got when he saw certain places in town. He didn’t have time for it until the path forward set itself in stone. At least as far as what he was planning on doing with it.

The night after Mitch - and Laura - arrived in town was the full moon. It would be the start of everything. Mitch followed Laura at a distance as she made her way to the ruins of her old house at dusk. He left his car just inside the first curve of what had once been the nicely paved driveway to the Hale house and made the rest of the way on foot. 

Mitch triple-checked that his magical amulets and his medallion were snug against his skin and hovered about fifty feet from the ruins behind a tree. Less than ten minutes after moonrise, the exact thing Mitch was expecting occurred. 

A male walked out of the woods from the direction of the hospital, a werewolf fully in beta shift, eyes glowing blue and claws and fangs sharp. Laura turned away from the ruins and tilted her head as the shifter approached her, nostrils flaring. Her eyes narrowed. “Uncle Peter?”

Peter growled and sprang at her, claws extended. “Intruder!” He caught his unprepared niece across the throat and she fell, not thinking to protect herself from the omega uncle she had abandoned years before.

Peter threw his head back and howled as his eyes turned red, Laura’s alpha spark hitting him hard in his unstable state. 

Mitch stepped out from behind the tree and deliberately stepped on a fallen branch. Peter whirled around from his kill at the sound and began charging at Mitch. Expecting this and fully prepared, Mitch slid to the side as Peter charged past him and finished dropping what he held in his hand.

Peter spun and changed his angle to attack Mitch again but ran headfirst into the inside edge of the mountain ash circle that now surrounded the tree. He howled and clawed at the barrier while Mitch waited him out, just out of his reach.

Mitch stood calmly and began to speak to Peter. “Remember your control, Peter. Alpha, beta, omega. Omega, beta, alpha. I know the alpha spark is intense, I know you’re not all healed in the brain. But you are the Hale Alpha now. You rule the spark, you rule the wolf, they don’t rule you. Alpha, beta, omega. Omega, beta, alpha. Any can rise, any can fall. Alpha, beta, omega. Omega, beta, alpha.”

As Mitch spoke, Peter slowly calmed, outwardly. With the eighth repetition of the mantra by Mitch, Peter began whispering it aloud, his claws tapping a rhythm on the blue dome of mountain ash magic as he spoke each word. “Alpha, beta, omega. Omega, beta, alpha.”

Forty repetitions later, the claws and fangs retracted, the sideburns disappeared as the eyebrows returned, and the red in Peter’s eyes faded into his natural blue. He stood tall and rasped, “Who are you?”

Mitch smiled. “I’m not a hunter. I just needed you to find your center. I’ll break the circle in a little bit. My name’s Mitch. I know who you are, Peter Hale. I know what happened to you, to your pack, to your family. I know you want revenge for what happened to them.”

Peter nodded.

Mitch smiled. “Well, I don’t plan on stopping you. Lucky for you I know what it is like to hunger for revenge for the untimely death of family. Even luckier for you, we’re after the same revenge. Kate Argent. Gerard Argent. The Argent family and their hunter mercenary force. And if we can get you fully healed up - which your new alpha spark will certainly help with - and by fully healed, I don’t just mean your body, your mind is a fucking Salvador Dali painting and it needs to fully heal, too. Once we do that, we can work together to end them without major blowback on us.”

“Why? You’re no wolf.”

Mitch shook his head. “No. But that doesn’t mean I’m vanilla human, either. I know things. I  _ see  _ things. I saw an older woman taking advantage of a young teen boy and told my father, a sheriff’s deputy. He caught her and arrested her. After she was convicted, her father helped her escape. My name is Mitch Stilinski, they killed my father, they will die, prepared or not.”

Peter’s eyes glinted red and he nodded, his mouth twisted into a sneering grin. “I welcome your help, Mitchell Stilinski.”

“Just Mitch. It  _ is _ short for something, but that something is not Mitchell. I will be a member of your pack. I don’t want the turning bite. I don’t know what that would do to my visions and I think we will need those visions going forward. I can use them to find you good people to bite, to be pack, to hunt the Argents with. And when your nephew comes to town - and he will, pretty soon - I can verify that you challenged a strange wolf in your territory and killed her, righteously and justly. I’m kind of sociopathic, you know - my dad was always my moral anchor and he’s been gone longer than your pack - but I can appreciate her getting what was coming to her for how she treated you. Will you work with me to take them out, Alpha? Shall we destroy the Argents and then rebuild the Hale Pack better than before?”

Peter inhaled deeply. After a moment, he nodded. “Deal.”

Mitch slid his foot forward and broke the ash circle. Peter stepped out and raised Mitch’s wrist to his mouth and using his human teeth, he bit down, claiming his new emissary. Revenge would be sweet.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot. I do not have any plans for a sequel. Don't ask!


End file.
